


no haircuts forever

by sunarists



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Bachelorette Party, Clubbing, Crushes, Dancing, Drinking, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Las Vegas, Las Vegas Wedding, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Mutual Pining, luna isn't even named just know that its her, sea mechanic is IMPLIED
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24213826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunarists/pseuds/sunarists
Summary: murphy's never had the best luck- he supposes that's why he wakes up in las vegas, no recollection of the night prior, next to a snoring bellamy blake wearing nothing but a ring on his left hand.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/John Murphy, Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Luna/Raven Reyes, Monty Green/Jasper Jordan, Octavia Blake/Lincoln
Comments: 15
Kudos: 83





	no haircuts forever

**Author's Note:**

> me, writing for six hours and posting this unbetaed and will probably find that it's not english tomorrow morning? you're absolutely right. 
> 
> this is pure nonsensical fluff. enjoy it or perish.

The bed is comfortable- Murphy can admit that, really. It's soft, plush, not too tough on his back. The pillows are the right amount of fluffy, the sheets feel like silk against his bare skin, and the blankets aren't so heavy that he's sweating, not too thin that he's shivering. There is black liner smudged all over the pillowcase- he flips it over; hopefully he can avoid getting charged by the hotel. 

His mouth tastes like something died and was rotting inside of it, and his head was hurting something _fierce,_ the light filtering through the not-quite-closed curtains _way_ too bright for Murphy's taste. 

A snuffle- then a quiet snore. Murphy freezes as he realises he's not alone, in this suspiciously comfortable bed where he's _naked,_ save for a pair of boxers he's not actually sure are his. He scared to turn around, face the music, face the _stranger._

Murphy rubs his eyes roughly, hissing when something hard and cold scratches against his cheekbones, holding his left hand up and squinting at it confusedly- 

_oh._

Record scratch, freeze frame.

This _better not_ be what he thinks it is.

Right there, glittering on a finger with ugly, chipped red polish on the nail, under the morning sun leaking through the curtains, is a gaudy silver band with a crystal-diamond- _whatever!_ He's not sure what the gem is, but the sight of it is enough to make him nauseous. 

"Fuck!" Murphy curses- it's too loud, echoing through the empty room that had been quiet, save for the bedfellow's sleep sounds, and the stranger is stirring. Murphy whips around to face them, hoping- nay- _praying_ that it was a stranger, that it wasn't anyone he knew, anyone special. 

Alas, Murphy's always had rotten luck, and next to him, his bare chest stretching in their Las Vegas hotel room, black curls splayed over the white pillowcase, lies Bellamy Blake. 

"Bell." Murphy shakes him awake. " _Bellamy,_ get _up."_

"Wha-" The older man starts, jolting up nervously, the blankets pooling at his waist- Murphy's _never_ been so grateful that Bellamy's not naked, wearing boxers just like Murphy was. "What's going- _Murphy?"_

"Morning, sunshine." He grumbles, before reaching for Bellamy's hands. The man flinches, eliciting a snarl from Murphy, and quickly allows him to continue his search. Murphy snatches his left hand, his heart dropping at the sight of the simple gold circlet around his ring finger, letting it drop quickly. 

"What the hell happened last night?" Murphy whispers. Realisation is dawning on Bellamy, his eyes flicking around the room that they definitely _shouldn't_ be splurging on, their half-dressed state, the ring on Murphy's finger. Murphy notes their clothes littering the floor, on the armchair, hanging off the TV- is that Bellamy's shirt, swinging from the curtain rod? "Did we have se-" 

"I don't remember." Bellamy mumbles, looking at the ring with something akin to awe. "I don't remember _anything."_

He blanches suddenly, his nostrils flaring dangerously. Murphy takes one horrified look at him and shoves him towards the bathroom, erupting out of bed while the pain in his head _stabs_ , his hand slapping Bellamy's bare back as the man falls to his knees over the toilet bowl, emptying his stomach of the remnants of the night prior. 

"Fuck." Murphy says tritely. "That's disgusting." 

He promptly bends over the bathtub, retching onto clean ceramic, his hand never leaving Bellamy's back, Bellamy's hand finding his hair, as the sounds of their misery filled the bathroom. 

* * *

"So we're- we're _married_?" Bellamy croaks, as they lie on cold bathroom floor, a moment of reprieve from their alcohol-induced sickness. 

"I'm gonna see if we have any- any legal documents." Murphy fights another gag, picking himself and groaning, questioning every decision he's ever made up until this point in his life. 

It would have been so much easier, if it was a stranger. It would've been so much easier with _anyone-_ hell, it would've been easier with Oprah _fuckin'_ Winfrey. 

But it's Bellamy Blake, and nothing with Bellamy Blake is _ever_ easy. 

On the floor by Bellamy's side of the bed, papers are splayed all over the floor, smelling of vodka and adorned with wine stains. One look at the font, the emanating _officiality_ of the documents told Murphy all he needed to know. 

He walks back into the bathroom, where Bellamy is still curled on the floor, waving the papers angrily. 

"I present to you Mr. and Mr. Murphy-Blake." He sighs. Bellamy closes his eyes, seemingly willing the floor to open up and swallow him whole. Absently, Murphy thinks he might have the right idea.

* * *

They get dressed in silence, wincing at how their clothes reeked of last night, their (maybe?) walk of shame seemingly obvious to any bystanders. Murphy unlocks his phone to see five missed calls- one from Raven, one from Octavia, one from Jasper and two from Clarke. 

That's why they were in Vegas! _Clarke!_

Clarke and Lexa, who were getting married next week, and were having a joint bachelorette party in Vegas! Murphy willed this new memory to bring forth more, but his mind still blanked, and their night remained a mystery. 

"Shit." Bellamy looks at his phone, scrolling at seemingly endless missed calls. "Octavia's gonna freak." 

" _I'm_ gonna freak." Murphy mumbles under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose to attempt alleviating the pounding in his head.

No bueno. It felt like it got worse. 

"Hello?" Bellamy says into his phone, holding it away from him with a scowl as Octavia's tinny shrieking comes through the other end. "O, be _quiet-_ my head feels like someone threw a brick at it- it's _my fault?_ So you don't have a hangover at _all_? Please- you're _where?"_

More metallic speaking, too quiet for Murphy to pick up on. Bellamy listens with a frown, scratching idly at his bare neck. Murphy's eyes are instantly drawn to his face, his concentrated eyes under long, dark eyelashes and his anxious lip bite, freckles dotting a smooth, tan face. His curls are messy, a mop on his head that he runs his hands through too often when he's stressed. His fingers, long and calloused, have fingernails that are bitten all the way down. His stature is tall, confident and strong.

Bellamy Blake is just _handsome,_ in the most classic sense of the word- the type of handsome that had cheerleaders swooning in high school, the type of handsome that had old women at the grocery stores pinching his cheeks and showering him in compliments. 

It makes Murphy's gut twist in a strange way that it never had, before meeting Bellamy. He's not used to it, still, after years of being friends with him, not used to the clammy palms and the blushing and the awkward boners and the fluttering heartbeat and the worst, _ugh,_ the _worst-_ his faltering words. 

Bellamy Blake had a special ability of shutting Murphy up, and if anything was worth being impressed by, it was _that._

"They're at Polo Towers." Bellamy finally says, sliding his phone into his pocket. "Octavia and Raven, that is." 

"Do they remember their night?" Murphy asks hopefully, cheering inwardly at Bellamy's small nod. 

"They'll tell us _something,_ I'm sure." Bellamy's voice raises a pitch at the end, the statement sounding more like a question. 

They find a cab to Polo Towers, the idea of walking physically paining the both of them- the cab driver has the radio on full blast, _La Bamba_ ringing through Murphy's head as he closes his eyes behind red-rimmed sunglasses that he's not even sure belong to him. Bellamy is quiet next to him, the only noise being Ritchie Valens' incessant crooning and the cab driver's off-pitch humming. When they roll up to a gorgeous looking building with hotel rooms that probably cost more than Murphy and Bellamy's rent _combined,_ Murphy's glad to see that they weren't the only ones to indulge in a drunken mistake. 

They spot Octavia and Raven in a cafe in the sprawling lobby- Raven is slumped over two empty cups of coffee, her hair loose from her typically pulled-back, slick ponytail. Octavia looks a little too chipper for the rest of them. 

"Good _morning,_ boys." She giggles, ignoring their dark eyebags and murderous frowns. "Coffee?" 

They sigh gratefully, pulling the steaming cups towards them. Bellamy splutters at the first sip he takes, glaring at Murphy. 

"It's yours." He slides it towards him. Murphy's glad that Bellamy caught the mix-up before he did- the idea of drinking Bellamy's go-to black brew makes his stomach churn uncomfortably. He'll stick with his more-sugar-than-coffee, thank you very much. 

Octavia is watching them interact with an interesting fervor, scanning them more than is usual for someone as observant as she tended to be. Her eyes flick up and down their ruffled hair, their red eyes, last night's clothes that smelt faintly of sweat and alcohol. Her gaze then drops down towards Murphy's finger with the new shine, and her eyes light up- Murphy's stomach drops as she looks at Bellamy's hand, noting the golden band that was adorning it. 

"No _fucking_ way." Octavia all but screams, jerking Raven up from her bent over demeanour. "You guys got _married?"_

Raven gasps, finally seeing the rings for herself. "Oh- you guys look like shit, by the way- oh _wow-_ I mean, unorthodox, but were we expecting anything else- did you two do the dirty? Oh, you absolute _dogs-"_

"No! I mean- wait, we don't know- we... we don't remember anything!" Murphy sputters. Bellamy flushes a deep red, the blush crawling below his collar. "We don't remember _anything._ We woke up in the morning, found the ring and the papers, and started throwing up, like, instantly."

Octavia's eyes widen, her eyebrows raising, and looks at Bellamy with a particularly nasty grin that Murphy guessed was only reserved for siblings. "My boring big brother, what a night you had! Having more than a beer-" 

"Shut up. I'm not _boring."_ Bellamy scowls. "We need your help." 

"No shit." Raven rolls her eyes. "I'm just saying, this is the best thing that's happened to me in like, six hours." 

"Six?" Murphy asks. "What happened six hours ago?" 

"Met a cute girl from LA, got her number, but that's not important." Her faint smile contrasts- in fact, it _was_ important. "What's the last thing you remember?" 

"Uh." Murphy scratches his head. "I think we were doing- oh my _God,_ it was at the karaoke place. And- _hah-_ Jasper got Bellamy to do Taylor Swift with him-" 

"I don't even remember doing that." Bellamy groans mournfully. "I remember watching _you_ do karaoke with Raven." 

"It was epic." Raven bumps Murphy's outstretched fist. "Beyoncè would’ve been proud."

Murphy suddenly remembers- bright lights, something... something _citrusy-_

* * *

_The karaoke bar flashes with neon light, bright and kind of abrasive on the eyes, but this is Murphy's scene. This is where he finds his comforts, in the dark corners of the clubs with men and women he won't remember the names of, alcohol at a free flow and people embarrassing themselves on stage._

_It's great, it's all great. He flicks his eyes to Bellamy, who looks mildly tipsy, uncomfortable and out of place amongst gyrating bodies and loud singing, his shirt not unbuttoned once, but_ twice. _That's how he knows, Murphy supposes, that Bellamy Blake is really letting loose._

_"Shots!" Clarke shrieks, dragging Monty and Murphy with an unsurprising amount of strength. They share a glance, a grin, a "hey, what can ya do?" It's moments later that the familiar burning sensation is trailing down his throat, and he snorts at how Monty coughs._

_"Laugh it up." Monty harrumphs boozily. "I'm a man of simple pleasures, like cocktails."_

_Murphy holds his hands up in surrender. "I don't judge a man with an appreciation for cocktails."_

_"One more, one more!" Clarke calls- this time Bellamy and Raven have found them too. In the distance, he sees Lexa, Octavia and Jasper dancing wildly, all gesticulating arms and off-beat swinging._

_"Tequila!" Raven demands, and the bartender drops a little salt on their hands. Bellamy looks at his hand confusedly, then flicks back up- Murphy's making direct eye contact with him, looking at him from under hooded eyes as he licks up his hand and downs the shot in one go, finally biting into the lime. Bellamy's mouth parts softly- it's a sight that makes Murphy feel warm, warmer than he already did in a room full of people._

_"Let's sing!" Raven grabs him by the arm- Murphy has no choice but to comply, and leaves Bellamy in the dust, the salt slowly slipping off his skin, forgotten._

* * *

"Where did we go next?" Bellamy wonders aloud, from behind his coffee. 

"After the karaoke bar?" Raven bites her lip. "Pretty sure we went to another club. I think there were strippers." 

"There were _strippers?"_ The men say in unison- Bellamy sounding significantly less excited at the statement. 

Octavia grins. "Oh God, it was _so_ funny- remember Jasper- shit, I'm gonna call Jasper, pretty sure he and Monty are in Polo Towers too... hell, I'll get Clarke and Lexa too, if they're awake-" 

"Jasper!" Raven wheezes. "I wish you guys remembered, holy fuck- basically, Jasper grabs these handcuffs from one of the strippers, like straight up pickpockets him- you know how Jas is- and locks Monty into them. Neither of them can break out of them- they need a _key-_ but by then, the stripper's gone to dance on someone-" 

* * *

_Murphy notices, pleased, that Bellamy's loosened another button, revealing an expanse of sun-browned, freckled skin, his collarbones and neck. Murphy gulps, tearing his eyes away from how the man seems to glow underneath flashing lights. He's swaying to the music absently- he's drunk, they're all drunk, but Murphy's not drunk enough to forget how he feels._

_"Let's_ dance!" _Octavia pulls Murphy along, and they find themselves in the middle of a throng of sweaty, dancing bodies. "Let's go Murphy, I've seen you in action, show me some moves."_

_"Lincoln could filet me in seconds." Murphy muses aloud, but he rests his hands comfortably, appropriately on Octavia's waist, keeping a safe distance while she puts her hands on his shoulders. "Bellamy could filet me even faster."_

_"Bellamy would rather throw himself into the fountain than lay a finger on you." Octavia snorts, as they rock to the beat of the pounding music. "And Lincoln isn't intimidated by you."_

_"Why not?" He pouts, ignoring the comment about Bellamy._

_"Because we were neighbours in high school, and you literally snuck in just to get your nails painted by me?" Octavia snickers. "Don't be an asshole."_

_"That's all I'm good for, baby Blake, cut me some slack."_

_"My turn!" Clarke giggles, cutting between them and grabbing Murphy, dancing wildly and haphazardly. Octavia finds Bellamy, and Murphy turns his attention back to the woman of the hour._

_"I love Lexa so much!" Clarke screams over the music. "She makes me so happy!"_

_"Good!" Murphy yells back, slurring. "I'm happy for you guys!"_

_Clarke pokes him in the chest, aggressively. "You could be this happy too, you know. If you wanted."_

_Murphy rolls his eyes at her, twirling a bit. "I am happy."_

_"No- no, you're... what's the word?" Clarke pauses. "You're melancholic." She sounds especially proud of herself, finding the right word. "You're not happy, you're not sad, you're just-"  
_

_"Existing?" Murphy interrupts. "I'm pretty good at it."_

_"Oh, come on, Murph." She frowns. "You've been holding out for Bellamy since we were in high school."_

_"No I haven't." He shoots back childishly, feeling guilty as he scans the room quickly, disappointed when he can't spot the mess of unruly black curls._

_"He's fucking in love with you!" Clarke yells. "Anyone with eyes can see that."_

_Murphy shakes his head, his mind whirling. "I have eyes, and I don't see it. Oh, quit it Clarke, we're celebrating you and your achievements, not me and my sad excuse for a life."_

_"I don't think you're sad." She snipes. "You're cool, because if you weren't cool, I wouldn't invite you."_

_Murphy laughs, happy to see Clarke's drunken grin creep back onto her face._

_"Behind you-" She tried murmuring._

_"I want a dance." A familiar voice whines- God, Bellamy Blake is the most plastered Murphy's ever seen him. Clarke disappears instantly, and it's just Bellamy, Murphy, and a crowd of unknowable strangers._

_"What am I, a village bicycle? Everyone gets a ride." Murphy grumbles, but he allows Bellamy to snake his hands around his waist, resting on his back. He swings his arms around his shoulders, lacing his fingers together behind Bellamy's neck._

_"Thought I was just getting a dance." Bellamy snickers amusedly. Murphy groans. The music picks up the pace- Murphy moves in tandem, forwards and backwards, side to side. "What were you two talking about?"_

_Murphy flicks the nape of his neck easily. "None of your business, you nosy fuck."_

_Bellamy spins him quickly, his hands now resting low on his hips- Murphy can feel his heartbeat on his back as they grind on the grimy dancefloor. He can feel Bellamy's warm breath on his ear, his lips just brushing the shell of it._

_"Didn't peg you for a dancer, Blake." Murphy breathes- the silence, even when filled with club music, is deafening between them. Against his back, he feels the rumble of Bellamy's laughter._

_"I'm full of surprises." His voice is low, husky against Murphy's ear- it's too much, it's way too much._

_"Drinks." Murphy jerks away from him. Bellamy seems faintly disappointed. "I- I need a drink. Let's go to the bar."_

* * *

"Why d'you call us down?" Monty snips, Jasper's intertwined hand pulling him along to sit at their table. "I was sleeping." 

"No you weren't." Murphy says pointedly, glaring at the fresh hickey on Jasper's neck. Monty shrugs, not seeming embarrassed at all. 

"So these two idiots-" Raven gestures towards Bellamy and Murphy. "- woke up this morning _married."_

"No!" Jasper hoots. "Like- officially? Papers? Rings?" 

Bellamy slaps the stack of sheets down on the table, smacking his left hand on top of it, scowling. Murphy shrinks a little at the anger Bellamy's expressing- was being with him like that- even only temporarily, even only as a drunken mistake- so awful?

He shrugs it off, pushing it to the back of his mind, perhaps to ponder another time, when he's alone and drunk. 

"Shit, guys. Uh- congrats?" Monty breathes, eyeing the rock on Murphy's finger. "I don't know what to say." 

"We don't either." Murphy snaps. "We don't remember any- actually, it's kind of coming back to me- I remember being at the club." 

One glance at Bellamy's widening eyes, his teeth sunk deep into his lips, shows that he's starting to remember it too. Murphy wonders if Bellamy is remembering their dance. 

He exhales a breath he didn't even realise he'd been holding. 

"Oh, I know what happened after the club." Jasper says excitedly. "We went to the casino! Pretty sure Octavia and Raven went somewhere else."

"Went to the strip." They chorus in tandem. 

"The casinos- it was one of _our_ last destinations, at least-"

* * *

_"Blackjack." Murphy begs, as they enter the casino. "We're going to blackjack."_

_"I wanna go to the slots." Bellamy retorts, crossing his arms. "I love the slots."_

_"Yeah, and I love_ blackjack." _Murphy whines. "Come on, I'll win us some cash, pinky swear."_

_He holds his finger up childishly, waiting for Bellamy to link them. The older man rolls his eyes, but loops their pinkies together. "Fine."_

_"Come on." Murphy leaves their pinkies intertwined, immensely pleased that Bellamy doesn't pull it away. They take a seat at an almost full table- casino sharks and haughty old women looking at the pair strangely._

_"Got a strategy?" Bellamy slurs anxiously into Murphy's ear, as they put down four hundred dollars._

_"Don't worry your pretty little head over it." Murphy mutters absently- he curses himself instantly. Pretty? Really? Ugh._

_Murphy takes his time to watch other players with their cards, flicking through numbers in his head while watching the other player's tics. Woman in the red dress flicked her eyes left while she bluffed, fat man in the suit frowned subtly when he got a bad hand._

_"There's two thousand dollars on this hand." Murphy whispers into Bellamy's ear. "I've got it."_

_Murphy puts down his hand, waiting patiently for the reveal._

_"Ten, and ace." Murphy slaps the table, and they put up a cheer, viewers clapping and hooting._

_"The best hand- Murphy, how the hell did you do that?" Bellamy hisses into Murphy's ear as they embrace, his arms tight around his abdomen._

_"Magicians don't reveal their secrets." Murphy says haughtily- they collect their money and leave without another thought about the slots, two thousand dollars in cash and the rest of the night as their oyster._

_"Reveal it." Bellamy nudges him. "Just to me. I won't tell anyone."_

_"I counted the cards." Murphy whispers conspiratorially. Bellamy looks at him, wonderstruck and in awe- Murphy feels special, when Bellamy gazes at him like this._

_"You play dirty!" He sniggers, nudging Murphy again- Murphy's who's way too drunk to be_ moving, _let alone being shoved by strong friends that didn't know they were strong, so he stumbles, all the way left-_

_and into a fountain._

_The cold water envelopes him immediately, waking him up. He comes back to the surface with a gasp, his eyes landing on Bellamy, who's got his hands slapped over his mouth in a weak attempt to hide his laughter._

_"You're so dead." Murphy says calmly, not moving to get out of the water- the cold is kind of comfortable, relieving him of the humidity. "You're lucky my phone is in a plastic bag."_

_"Your phone is in a plastic bag?" Bellamy snorts. "Hah- why?"_

_"This, unfortunately, has happened before." Murphy stretches luxuriously. "Drop your phone and wallet before you come pull me up."_

_"Why would I do that, now that you've warned me?"_

_Murphy looks at him like he's stupid. "Water is currently soaking into the two-thousand dollars in my back pocket right now, two-thousand dollars that_ I _won, and you're too stingy about the defacing of cash and all that law shit-"_

_"It's not law shit-"_

_"- so you better come pull me up." Murphy finishes. They pause silently for a second, a quiet standoff. Murphy fights the urge to cheer when Bellamy drops his phone and wallet on the floor haphazardly, and makes his way towards him._

_"Get it over with." Bellamy sighs, holding his hands out shakily. Murphy takes care in intertwining their hands, and Bellamy is pulled into the water without fanfare, the water splashing over Murphy again._

_"It's_ cold. _" Bellamy groans, his hair plastered to his forehead and his neck. Murphy, without thinking, reaches up to sweep his hair to the side, combing his hand through the hair._

 _"I always liked your hair." Murphy mumbles- fuck, he's_ so _drunk._

_"Oh?" Bellamy mumbles. "Really?"_

_"Don't fish for compliments." Murphy chides, his fingers still tangled in Bellamy's hair. "Your hair is pretty. I'd be sad if you cut it."_

_"I won't." Bellamy breathes- are his eyes stuck on Murphy's lips?_

_Murphy lets the water roll over his legs, a pathetic attempt at sobering up. His heart's in his throat, beating fast fast fast._

_"Just for me?" Murphy's words catch in his throat, his eyes looking everywhere and anywhere except for Bellamy, Bellamy Blake, who he's so, so,_ so _hopelessly in love with._

 _"Just for you." Bellamy's face is inches apart from his- they look_ so _stupid, standing in a fountain, dripping wet as their possessions litter the ground, two drunken fools with a pocketful of cash and all of Las Vegas at their beck and call._

_It's the most romantic thing that's ever happened to Murphy._

_"I'm scared." Murphy confesses under his breath, just loud enough for Bellamy to catch._

_"Of?" He presses, his hands finding Murphy's waist, his fingers slipping through the belt loops._

_"You. That you'll cut your hair for someone else." He says, finally looking at Bellamy. Bellamy, who's looking at him adoringly. Murphy feels like the only person in the world, being looked at like this._

_Oh, how he's always loved that hair._

_Bellamy presses his lips to Murphy's then- the lights of the fountain glow under their feet, illuminating them for all of Las Vegas to see._

_"I'll never cut my hair for someone else. Why would I, when you like it so much?" Bellamy murmurs against his mouth. Murphy can feel how his lips curve upwards, and can't help but smile himself._

* * *

"We're late, sorry, sorry." Lexa plops into a seat, letting Clarke clamber into her lap. The blonde is wearing sunglasses indoors, whimpering as she suffers what will probably be the worst hangover of her life. 

"I'll never drink alcohol again." She moans- Lexa rubs her hair soothingly, dropping a soft kiss on her shoulder. 

"It was an insane bachelorette, ladies." Jasper says solemnly. "And hey, you're getting married next week!" 

Murphy flinches at the word- marriage is sounding more and more like a death sentence than a celebration. His heart falls to his feet at how Bellamy looks blankly at Clarke and Lexa, his eyes devoid of emotion. 

Clarke lowers her sunglasses to glare at Bellamy and Murphy, squinting under the lights of the lobby. "Speaking of marriage- why aren't you guys all chit-chatting about Murphy and Bellamy right now? Don't tell me we were _that_ late." 

Murphy's mouth drops open at the candor of his friend, how a smirk is playing at her lips. There was no _way_ she registered the sheets on the table to being their's, and Murphy's been sitting on his hands for an minutes now. 

"You're not mad?" Bellamy blurts, slapping a hand over his mouth. 

Lexa grins at the two of them. "Why would we be mad? We got to be the witnesses and everything- hell, this is what we were _hoping_ for!" 

* * *

_"How long?" Bellamy asks, once they've broken apart. They pick up their belongings and are strolling through the nightlife of Vegas, hand in hand. Time feels like a construct- whether Murphy's been awake for two hours or twenty, he's not sure- it feels like a dream, how the night changed, a twist and turn every hour._

_"How long what?" Murphy says, looking at Bellamy from the corner of his eye. In his peripheral, he sees Bellamy downing the rest of their wine bottle, tossing it into a garbage bin clumsily as they walk and talk._

_"How long have you lo- how long have you liked my hair?" Bellamy corrects himself. Murphy beams- it's not that he doesn't feel it- the big L word- but things take time, especially this. Something Murphy had kept to himself for a long, long time._

_"Since I would sneak into your house in high school and you would watch Octavia paint my nails." Murphy says- he glances at his own nails, now. Chipped, and red. They're ugly. He finds himself not really caring. "And you would hold the colours we wanted and blowdry our nails with that crappy pink hairdryer you guys had."_

_"Hey." Bellamy giggles half-heartedly. "That hairdryer took care of my hair, thank you very much."_

_They share a laugh- it's nice, having this inside joke, this secret code. Murphy is transported back to high school again, in moments like this, when he first fell in love with the boy next door._

_"How long?" Murphy shoots back, turning towards him, walking backwards and not letting go of his hand._

_"Oh no, this is embarrassing." Bellamy groans. Murphy whacks him, bouncing on his toes impatiently for an answer._

_"It was like- I hope I'm remembering this right, fuck- a few months after we met, and I come home from training, and you're in Octavia's room- she was upset about that ex-boyfriend of her's- remember Atom? And you were doing her makeup and just_ insulting _him the entire time- it was the worst cursing I've ever heard in my life. But you made her laugh- she forgot all about him, in that moment with you. And then you made me sit down next to her, and you start putting eyeliner on me- still insulting Atom for Octavia, the entire time." Bellamy pauses, huffing a quiet laugh through his nose. "And then you tell me I'm still ugly with the makeup. Octavia loses it, she's laughing till she's crying. And then I knew."_

 _"You fell for me because I called you_ ugly?" _Murphy wheezes, holding his stomach to contain his erupting laughter. "Bellamy Blake, you're ridiculous."_

 _"It was so_ you." _Bellamy says softly. "And I like you."_

_"God, look at how sad we are." Murphy snickers. "Moping over each other for the past six years. What a pair we make."_

_"Old married couple, the two of us." Bellamy snickers._

_Maybe it's a bright idea. Maybe it's a stroke of drunken stupidity._

_Murphy’s never been one for forethought, or afterthought, or thought in general. It’s probably why this sounds like a good idea._

_"Bellamy Blake." Murphy falls to his knee, almost falling over and barely catching himself, holding Bellamy's hands loosely in his own. Bellamy's mouth drops open, a surprised bark of laughter echoing through the street. "The chances of us getting this drunk together in Las Vegas, sin fuckin' city, are very, very low, and here we are, soaking wet, pathetically in love, and have an opportunity to be officiated by Elvis fuckin' Presley. We'll find Clarke and Lexa, they can be our witnesses, we'll get rings, finish this night with a bang."_

_Murphy looks up at Bellamy- his face is flashing with about a hundred different emotions._

_"So what do you say?" Murphy implores. "Think you could be a Murphy for a night?"_

_Bellamy is quiet, looking at him blankly- in a split-second, Murphy's possessed by fear, that he's fucked it all, he's_ fucked it- 

_"Why the hell not?" Bellamy beams, and picks Murphy up, swinging him around. "I'd be a Murphy for the rest of my life, if I could."_

* * *

"Oh my God." Murphy's head drops into his hands- fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, this was _bad._

"Coming back to you?" Monty pats his hand sympathetically. Bellamy is deafeningly quiet, his mouth frozen shut in shock. Every second that goes by is physically paining Murphy- what'd he'd do to take it back, _fuck-_

"Here, I think you two need a moment." Jasper says, surprisingly empathetic, and with a scrape of chairs and rattling of plastic cups, their group have relocated to the other end of the lobby, leaving Bellamy and Murphy alone once again. 

* * *

_"You got your ring?" Bellamy slurs, patting Murphy's pockets for him._

_"Grope me later, marry me now." Murphy sniffs. Maybe those shots for good luck weren't such a great idea, but it happened! What could he do about it now?_

_"You guys!" Clarke races over to them, throwing herself into their arms. They end up falling to the floor in a drunken tumble anyways. Lexa's not far behind, jumping on top of them excitedly. "You're getting married! I'm getting married! We're all getting married!"_

_"Adulthood." Lexa says dreamily. "After tonight, I'm not sure it exists."_

_"It doesn't." Bellamy says hotly. "I'm getting married to John Murphy!"_

_"I'm going to cry." Clarke sniffs. "I'm so happy for you."_

_"Thank you, Mrs. Griffin soon to be Griffin-Woods." Murphy says, as stoically as he can attempt. "If you never met Lexa, you would have never had this party, and then I would never have dropped my balls and talked to Bellamy, and I'd be miserable all my life-"_

_"Oh, I'm sure we'd have figured it out eventually." Bellamy grumbles, but he pecks Murphy's cheek anyways, then again, and again and again again again again until he's peppering Murphy's face with vodka-flavoured kisses._

_"Go!" Clarke shoos them towards the altar. "Elvis is waiting!"_

_There are only five people in the empty wedding hall- Clarke on Bellamy's side of the room, and Lexa on Murphy's. They hold their hands together as Elvis Presley starts reciting something- Murphy's only half listening, his attention completely enraptured by the man in front of him._

_Bellamy Blake, water still dripping from the ends of his matted curls._

_Bellamy Blake, who won't cut his hair for Murphy._

_Bellamy Blake, who loves Murphy._

_"Something tells me neither of you have vows." Elvis whispers to them. They shake their heads, reaching for the rings._

_"Hey Murphy?" Bellamy slips the gaudy, ugly ring onto Murphy's finger. "I love you."_

_"You're an idiot." Murphy sighs fondly. He grabs Bellamy's left hand. "I love you too."_

_"I now pronounce you husband and husband." Elvis says grandly, spreading his arms. "You may kiss the groom."_

_It's a millisecond before their mouths are together again- everything that's gone unsaid between the two of them filling every space between them. It's over, just as fast as it began, and Murphy pulls away slowly, happy and sated._

_Clarke and Lexa are clapping- is that a tear, slipping from Lexa, unflappable, unshakeable Lexa's eye?_

_"Guys," Bellamy whines at the women. "We ruined your party. We stepped on your moment."_

_Clarke shushes him immediately as Lexa frowns. "No, no, no! This is the best wedding gift ever, I swear! Please- this is all we've wanted, for you guys to be happy-"_

_"It's about time you got your heads out of your asses." Lexa mutters affectionately. "No moments stepped on. Now, go to sleep, and you can wake up and remember all this tomorrow and lose your minds."_

_"I_ won't." _Bellamy says haughtily. "I won't."_

* * *

"I know we were drunk-" Murphy holds his hand up, pausing Bellamy, who's just about to open his mouth. "I know we were _wasted-"_

"I remember everything!" Bellamy grabs Murphy's hands, his eyes imploring him to stay. "I remember it." 

"- did you mean it?" Murphy whispers. "Any of it?" 

Bellamy has a death grip on Murphy's hands, the gold band digging into the flesh of his fingers, but he barely registers the sting. 

Across the lobby, Murphy can feel the stares of their friends, can almost hear the nervous whispering between them as they nosily watch the private conversation. He's overwhelmed by a wave of affection for his friends, his friends who just want him to be happy. 

He's close- oh, he's _close._

This is just the final piece of the puzzle, and Murphy's just waiting for it to click into place.

"I meant all of it." Bellamy breathes. "I meant it when I said I fell for you in high school and when I said I'd never cut my hair just for you and when I said I'd be a Murphy for the rest of my life and when I said I love you." 

Bellamy's eyes have never looked warmer than they do now, under the light of the lobby windows. 

"And I never thought I'd have to say it like _this."_ Bellamy giggles a little, honest-to-God, he _giggles._ "After barely remembering our night and waking up married- you know that's not my style- but I love you, I love you, I'll love you forever, John Murphy." 

Murphy chokes a little- watery and wet and thick with emotion and he's sure his eyeliner is gonna smudge. "Pinky swear?" 

"Pinky swear." 

"And you'll never cut your hair?" Murphy's leaning forwards, making a beeline for a kiss that feels long overdue. 

"Just for you." Bellamy confirms.

Their mouths slot together, and it's fine, everything is fine. 

Because John Murphy loves Bellamy Blake, and Bellamy Blake loves John Murphy, and all is right in the world. 

* * *

_"You won't regret this, in the morning?" Bellamy whispers. They're in a suite that's much too expensive for the both of them, curled up under the covers of a bed that made Murphy moan when he slipped into it._

_He's got his hands in Bellamy's hair, stroking it gently, breathing him in. Bellamy Blake is_ his. 

_"How could I?" Murphy confesses. "Even if we're mad about- you know, the marriage thing, at least we know. I'm not annulling us until you promise we can like- talk and all that mature stuff."_

_"It was about time we knew." Bellamy admits. "God, the hangover-"_

_"Don't remind me." Murphy begs. "We'll deal with it tomorrow."_

_Bellamy snickers, the bed rumbling with laughter. "We'll deal with it all tomorrow."_

_Murphy fights a yawn- his eyes are already fluttering shut, the night finally catching up to his bones._

_He likes the idea of tomorrow. A tomorrow with Bellamy._

_"Go to sleep." Bellamy murmurs. "I'll see you in the morning."_

_Murphy pulls him a little closer, already falling to the clutches of sleep._

_"Good thing you pushed me into that fountain." Murphy mumbles. "Or I would have never told you how much I liked your hair."_

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are APPRECIATED  
> i now have twitter! @505daytime  
> my tumblr @oliivverwood


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